Dreams and Trauma

I dreamed about Chris last night. He was sick but getting better and the emotion I felt most vividly in the dream was one I haven’t felt for a long, long time; hope. I was full of hope in last night’s dream. I cried the very second I opened my eyes this morning and then fought the urge to remain in bed for an extra half hour.

Chris looked thin, like he had been through a trauma, but he was on his way out of it. We hugged and I was so overwhelmed with happiness that he was getting better that the emotion took over all else.

The other day, my boss, whose husband has been struggling with liver disease, told me and my coworker that he was not doing well. His condition is worsening and now she is going to move to Florida with him because he is on the transplant list there. She is worried sick, obviously, that he will die. He might die. She might be widowed. Only time will tell.

I know exactly where she is in the trauma she is experiencing. I remember it well. Panicked, hopeful, terrified, helpless. That’s where bargaining came in for me.

I keep having very vivid memories of snapshots of times I spent with Chris.

I was just sitting at my desk, when suddenly I was really walking down the Street in Santa Monica with Chris trying to decide on a restaurant to go to. I could feel and smell the California air and I could feel Chris walking beside me.

I was just still sitting at my desk when suddenly I was walking up Mass Ave in Cambridge with Chris on our way to buy Ellis Paul tickets two and a half years ago. We were laughing. We loved just walking together.

I’m not sure what is happening to me or what stage of my grief this can be categorized under, but I will be sure to talk about it with Diane tomorrow night in an effort to understand it and not be so afraid of it. It is causing me some grief reactions, though.

I have yet to admit that I have also been through a trauma and that even though I don’t have cancer and endure seemingly endless chemo treatments and surgeries, that I have been traumatized. I probably ought to try to deal with that at some point. I can’t do it alone, though. I’m hoping Diane can help or somebody.

No Clay this week. Diane’s my flavor of the week. I’m already grieving my loss of my appointment with Clay. I suppose once a loss is suffered and until it is dealt with, every other loss in one’s life, be it large or small, feeds into the big one.

Last night, I shocked my brother a little by saying, “I’m just doing my time here until I get to leave this fucking earth.” I shocked him with the darkness of it, I think. I feel that way, though. I suppose I would like to not feel that way, I never give much thought to the idea that I might be able to control my feelings. It’s just that sometimes I miss Chris more than I can even stand and sometimes I don’t know how I am going to get through the rest of my life without him in it.